Goran Čolakhodžić
inglés
Lov
Lovio sam zečeve
obilno i nečujno:
nišan je ubijao, nije bilo pucnja,
krznene su vreće padale bez odgode
na suhu travu sumraka. Ostajali su
kruti, otvorenih očiju, bez kapi krvi
na stegnutim ranama, zapravo smiješni,
neopasni u toj smrti koja nije
preotela život, pa je bila prozirna.
Meni nije nestajalo metaka,
a ni njima smrti: stalno su je producirali
po humcima i jarcima.
Spušta se jesen, bit će da je to.
De: Na kraju taj vrt
Zagreb: Jesenski i Turk, 2015
Producción de Audio: Croatian P.E.N. Centre
Hunt
I hunted hares
abundantly and inaudibly:
the crosshair killed, no shots were fired,
furry bags fell promptly down
on the parched grass in the dusk. They remained
stiff, eyes open, with not a drop of blood
on their clenched wounds: in fact, ridiculous,
innocuous in their death which had not
taken over life, and so was see-through.
I did not run out of bullets,
and neither did they of death: they produced it constantly
in ditches and on mounds.
Autumn is falling, it’ll be that.